


The Melancholy of Oikawa Tooru, Professional Narcissist

by iwachans



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (in later chapters), Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Oikawa has feelings and is weird about it: the fic, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Suga is a Good Friend, mental health talk, oikawa tooru FINALLY goes to goddamn therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-05 14:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18367814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwachans/pseuds/iwachans
Summary: What could make your third year more exciting than realizing you're in love with your best friend?





	1. rarely would we ask (of things we used to have)

**Author's Note:**

> recently ive gotten back into a haikyuu surge and ive never been happier that my username is iwachans.  
> Ive got this planned for once so its only a matter of writing it. enjoy!

If you asked any average student in Aoba Johsai about the legend that is Oikawa Tooru, you’d receive a wide range of opinions. Girls fawned and gushed over his charm and good looks. Guys would scrunch their noses in jealousy and casually brush him off as a player. Adjectives would be thrown out faster than you could process. Handsome. Intelligent. Mysterious. Flashy. He was something different to each person he crossed paths with; he was the dashing prince of their dreams, he was the bane of their existence, he was everything they wanted to be. When people looked at the surface that was Oikawa Tooru, they saw nothing short of a perfect image. He played the role of whatever people wanted him to be and he was gifted.

When Oikawa Tooru looked at himself, he saw a scared kid in a body three sizes too big. 

He wasn’t one of the lucky few who saw only what was skin deep; instead, he lived in the layers upon layers of himself, unwilling to peel back the image of the star player that students in Aoba Johsai and even other schools would whisper about as if they were indulging some dirty secret.

He was a textbook narcissist.

 

No, to Tooru, he was the prime example that beauty really was only skin deep. He was an awful, selfish person who lashed out at anyone who had the decency to care for him and tossed girls around until he got bored of them and left them on the curb. He thought about his last, and only, really, girlfriend he had in his second year. 

Her face was already fuzzy in his mind at this point, just another face blending into the crowd. He never let her call him by his first name and didn’t expect her to stick around too long. 

He was right.

He did remember how she dumped him, pushed away from Tooru and told him she didn’t like him anymore, he didn’t care about her like he cared about volleyball or Iwaizumi. Then she left and ignored him the rest of the year. The Iwaizumi bit always confused him, but he brushed her off and accepted the break up with grace (until, of course, Hajime wrapped his arms around him and mumbles a quiet apology. Turns out she confessed to Hajime the day after they broke up and he went ballistic. Only then did Tooru cry, only a little bit.) 

Regardless of her intentions, Tooru thought, she might have been right about him. 

 

Tooru figures that one day, his charm would be his downfall.

 

But for now, he was dubbed Oikawa Tooru, Professional Narcissist. The top of the class superstar whose ego was unrivaled. He wasn’t going to question it; after all, he at least had one person who saw through the facade, peeled back layers of Tooru’s psyche and treated him like a human being and not a golden calf to be worshiped. With Hajime by his side, he could last their third year. 

 

His hopes were dashed sooner than he expected one day in late February.

 

Tooru got up that morning and spent twenty minutes teasing his hair, trying to achieve the same fluffy  _ i-woke-up-like-this _ look and locked eyes with himself in his mirror. He stared, unblinking as he scanned over his facial features, the blemishes faintly obscured by a thin layer of foundation, lines from where dark circles hung beneath his eyes and the slight indent of his cleft chin that he absolutely loathed despite girls gushing over how  _ handsome _ it made him look.Strands of silver hair poked out from where he tried hiding them under his bangs, but they still stuck out like a sore thumb. Tooru squinted and tilted his head. His nose looked slightly crooked too. Fantastic.

 

Hajime burst into his room, causing Tooru to yelp and break his mental self evaluation. 

 

“Were you just going to spend all day making kissy faces in the mirror, Shittykawa?!” Hajime barked. “We have to leave in five minutes! Put on your uniform already!” 

 

“You’re so  _ mean,  _ Iwa-chan!” Tooru whined back, scrambling to put on his jacket and stepped into his plaid slacks. 

 

The walk to school was quiet. Hajime was never too talkative unless Tooru initiated the conversation, and Tooru was never a morning person. Comfortable silences in the mornings were common for the pair. Tooru’s eyes traced Hajime’s features as he lazily scrolled on his phone. He had a few zits on his hairline, small enough to not be a problem but still just a bit noticeable. His skin was sunkissed; his tan was darker than it had been before training, but his family business also kept him out and about, and he was rewarded with his labor through little clumps of dark freckles scattered across his face. There was a group of them across his nose that resembled some constellation Tooru couldn’t remember. He laughed at something on his phone and Tooru noticed the dimple on his left cheek when his lips curled up.

 

“Oi, Shittykawa,” Hajime’s voice cut through Tooru’s thoughts once more. “What are you staring at? You wanna fight?” 

 

“N-no, Iwa-chan!” Tooru laughed, dispelling his urge to play connect the dots with Hajime’s freckles. “I just thought that you looked muggier than usual. You should go to bed earlier.”

 

Hajime slugs Tooru on the arm with his left hand while still looking at his phone in his right. 

“Knock it off, Trashykawa, it’s too early in the morning for your bullshit.”

 

Tooru rubbed his shoulder and whined, mumbling  _ So mean, Iwa-chan _ under his breath before changing the subject. They continued their walk this way, Tooru idly rambling about the latest space documentary that  _ totally _ confirmed aliens existed, to gossip he heard from a girl in their class about some second year, to his observations on the upcoming first years that were joining the club after they graduated. Hajime listened, because he always did, not looking up his phone but still engaged in the conversation.

They were simple. Even after all the years he and Tooru had known eachother, they were still them. Just Tooru and Hajime. Hajime and Tooru.

* * *

The catalyst was a girl. Because of course it was.

 

Mattsun pulled him from practice as he was warming up, gesturing to the small girl who nervously shifted from one foot to the other. Tooru sighed, stepped out and greeted the girl with his million dollar smile. He followed her to the empty classroom where she avidly confessed her love to her sweet Oikawa-senpai and he humbly turned her down. It was all routine at this point. He would stroll back to practice and forget the girl until the next one showed up.

 

What wasn’t apart of that routine, was what the girl said next.

 

He turned to leave the classroom, about to shut the door when the girl spoke up once more.

 

“Thank you for letting me bother you like this, Oikawa-senpai. I wish you and Iwaizumi-senpai happiness!” And she bowed at a 90 degree angle. Tooru stopped in his tracks and his head spun around to face her.

 

“I- uh- wh...Huh?” Smooth, Tooru.

 

“What do you mean, Iwaizumi?”

 

She blinked owlishly, her face burning scarlet.

“You and Iwaizumi-senpai are a couple. A few second years told me!”

 

Him and Iwaizumi? Iwaizumi and him?  _ Tooru and Hajime? Dating? _

 

His mind was reeling,  unable to process exactly what she was implying. His heart began to race and his hands felt limp and numb at his sides. Without another word or another look in the girl’s direction, he left the classroom. 

 

Practice, he realized, was a lot more difficult for him than he thought it would be. After serving right into Kindaichi’s head during a practice match and eventually receiving with his face in some form of cosmic karma, he knew his game was thrown off. 

 

_ Hajime Iwaizumi and Oikawa Tooru. People thought they were a couple. How long have people thought that? Where did the rumor come from? What-  _

_ _

“Oikawa!” Hajime snapped, and Tooru jumped a foot into the air as Hajime marched up to him and tugged at his hair. 

“What’s up with you today, dumbass? This isn’t like you.” Hajime placed his palm of Tooru’s forehead. “D’you have some kind of cold or something?”   
  


Tooru’s skin felt like it was on fire. He pushed himself away from Hajime and stood rigid.    
“I-I’m fine, Iwaizumi! Come on, quit moming me and let’s get back to practice. 

 

Hajime’s eyes widened at the lack of a nickname in Tooru’s response, but grunted and dropped it as Tooru marched onto the other side of the court.

 

The walk home was just as silent as the walk there, but Tooru couldn’t smother the thick, tense atmosphere that hung between the two of them. The sun had just set, but the sky was still a faint pink as they trudged home, exhausted from practice. But Tooru was still on edge, lost in thought at the girl and her declaration. 

 

_ Did people really see him and Iwaizumi in that way? _

 

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi spoke up halfway through the walk.

 

“Yes, Iwa-chan?”

 

Hajime stopped in his tracks.

 

“Did something happen with that girl during practice today?”   
  


Tooru made a strangled noise and paused. 

“Of course not, Iwa-chan! I just felt bad, she cried a lot ya know?”

“Don’t lie to me, Shittykawa.”

 

Hajime’s green eyes bored into Tooru. Had there always been flecks of brown in Hajime’s eyes? Tooru can’t remember. His throat clenched and he coughed as the dryness clawed at his insides. What else could he say?

 

“People think we’re dating.” He blurted out, wishing to take back the words immediately. The slight shock present on Hajime’s face morphed into something unreadable. 

Silence filled a beat before Hajime spoke again, eyes still locked onto Tooru’s.

 

“And?” Is his reply.

 

“ _ And? _ ” Tooru parrots.

 

Hajime turned around and continued walking, Tooru hopping into step behind him. 

“What does it matter? We’re not dating.”

 

Tooru lets out a quiet  _ yeah. _

 

“Besides, you’re-we’re not gay. Everyone knows that.”

 

Tooru nodded and glanced over at Hajime’s face again, his green eyes glittering in the light of the sunset. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Iwa-chan.” 

 

The rest of the walk is silent as they climb up the steps to their neighboring homes. They pull out their house keys in sync. Normally they picked one of their houses to hang out at after practices, but Tooru insisted he had homework to finish last minute. Hajime grunted and the two parted ways. 

  
Tooru slammed his front door behind him and marched up to his room. His mom is working late, he notes by the silence of the house and her slippers still by the door. 

 

He entered the room and made a beeline for the mirror. He stared into his own warm, brown eyes and searched for an answer he knew he didn’t have. It shouldn’t have bothered him this much, he thought. He wasn’t gay. He had his fair share of crushes on girls, and the thought of being attracted to another man was out of the question, let alone his best friend. 

But he still couldn’t describe the pit in his stomach. His head was reeling.

 

His staring provided no answers. Instead, he saw his imperfections. A little, angry zit had popped up on his cheek. Frustrated, he stomped to bed and fell asleep, not even bothering to take off his uniform even though he knows he’s going to regret it when it's all crumpled in the morning.

 

That night, he remembers dreaming of a pair of green eyes.


	2. is it news to you (that i want to call)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suga and oikawa are setter bffs. change my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changed the first chapter's title. im still upset about Her's, its not much but just something i want to do for them.

Tooru expected everything to go back to normal by the time he woke up that morning. He would go to class, flirt with a few girls, try not to spike a ball into Hajime’s face, and get him to treat Tooru to milk bread on the way home.

However, when he opened his front door and saw Hajime turn around, already a bit annoyed because he was late even though the day just started, Tooru realized fate had other plans. 

The walk was quiet as always, but the tension had returned. And so did the pit in his stomach.  For once, Tooru was wide awake at seven in the morning. Maybe Tooru was overreacting, because Hajime seemed unphased, reading some war novel as he stepped in a comfortable rhythm with Tooru. It was like the day before never happened. 

Tooru stared at Hajime, the other man unaware of his admirer a mere few inches apart. 

His eyes were cast downwards as he idly scrolled through some twitter thread, green shadowed by his unusually long eyelashes. The spring chill turned the bridge of his sharp, upturned nose a faint pink, contrasting on his darker skin tone. A tiny beauty mark was right next to his left ear. As he held his phone in his hands, Tooru mentally traced the outline of his bicep, stifled by the loose fabric of his unbuttoned school blazer, but just barely visible. 

 

Had Hajime always been this handsome?

The thought caused Tooru’s face to flush, and was dispelled entirely when Hajime noticed Tooru staring.

“What are you looking at, Shittykawa?”

“Just how gross you look in the morning, Iwa-chan!”

That earns Tooru a slap across the head.

He gently brushed his fingers against his scalp where Hajime struck him, and tried to stop thinking about it. He was just being weird.

Yeah.

He was just weird.

 

* * *

 

 

Tooru was hyper aware of the whispers amongst his classmates that morning. The idle chatter had never phased him before, as he cheerily tuned out most of it for a good chunk of the year. 

Despite his reputation, gossip wasn’t really his thing anyways. 

However, the girl’s words floated in and out of his head. If she had heard that he and Hajime were a couple, then someone had told her, and possibly others, that they were an item as well. He had probably passed some unrecognizable face in the halls and completely ignored their hushed voices. Tooru could hear them in his head. 

His head was spinning. He shut his eyes, clenched his fists, and tried to focus as his classmates continued their frenzied conversations. Their voices clashed together; bits and pieces of various chatter intertwined and created new sentences, and got lost in context as he strained to pick out his name in any of their words. He became hyper aware of each pair of eyes that just so happened to skim over him, lingering for a moment before drifting away. He searched them for any sign of disgust, of  _ knowing _ something Tooru didn’t. 

 

Tooru’s heart pounded. If someone spread the rumors about him and Hajime, did that mean that people thought they were gay? Did the entire student body assume that he was..? What else would they be saying about him behind his back?

 

He buried his face in his hands. He spent his entire high school career clinging to Hajime, following him around like a lost puppy. By now he was probably already the local laughing stock. For once in his life, he was grateful Hajime is in the class below him. 

Tooru spent the rest of class picking at his nails, already chewed to the quick, and forced himself not to think too much about when someone throws a spare glance in his direction.

 

* * *

 

 

Another item on the list of things people loved to tell Tooru about himself: he was a sore loser.

Which wasn’t entirely wrong, he mused. 

The mere thought of losing, whether it be to Ushijima, or Tobio-chan or otherwise, put a sour taste in his mouth. Who  _ wouldn’t  _ be disgusted by the idea of being inferior? Losing meant you weren't the strongest. What was the point in playing if you couldn't be the best, where's the pride in  _second best?_

So Tooru does what Toorus do, and trained his ass off. 

Practice that day, he noted, was also apparently not supposed to go in his favor, either. He served three balls out, fumbled on every toss he sent to Hajime, and landed on his bad knee while trying to flail for a ball when it was going out in the first place.

Which led him to the following: Plopped ungracefully onto the bench, melting ice pack clutched into his hand, and internally ripping into himself while he pretended to listen to Hajime scold him.

“Seriously, Trashykawa! Are you trying to put yourself out of volleyball for college?” Hajime barked. Tooru only snickered.

_ I’ll be benched anyways, why does it matter? I’m not good enough for them, I’m not even good enough here.  _

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru all but sang, venom seeped into his voice, “Are you my mom? I can take care of myself.” 

The gym fell silent. Hajime’s expression twisted into something unreadable and Tooru braced himself for the strike.

But it doesn’t come. Hajime just stared at him for another brief moment before he turned and walked out of the gym. After another eternity of silence, coach snapped at everyone to continue practicing. So they do. Tooru sat out for the rest of practice, an eye on the door as he waited for Hajime to come back. 

 

The ice pack melted into nothing but cool water on Tooru’s knee. 

 

Hajime doesn’t come back.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week is a mess, to say the least. His vice captain doesn’t wait on him before walking to school the day after Tooru’s outburst, and Tooru grimaced at the loss of Hajime next to him. But he was prideful, so he bit his tongue and flashed a bright smile when he entered the gym. Hajime pointedly doesn’t look at him or speak to him for the entirety of practice, only acknowledging Tooru when he sets up a toss. 

_Fine_ , Tooru scowled as Hajime left the club room without so much as a glance in his direction. Two can play at that game. 

Tooru skipped practice Saturday. His sister and Takeru were coming home that night for her birthday dinner, so he figured he may as well pick up groceries. And Hajime wouldn't bother trying to drag him to practice. 

That’s how he found himself in Shimada Mart face to face with Mr. Refreshing.

Suga was just as surprised to see Tooru. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled warmly at Tooru, chirping a greeting. Tooru couldn’t decide whether he hated or adored him. 

“Hey, Oikawa! Long time no see.”   


“Yeah, hey, Mr. Refreshing.”

If Sugawara is bothered by the nickname, he doesn’t comment. Instead he fixated on Tooru, chocolate brown eyes scanning him. Tooru did his best not to squirm. He knew he looked like a train wreck, complete with dark circles, glasses in place of contacts, and his usually charming bedhead replaced with a style to rival Kuroo's rat's nest called hair.

Suga sighed, paid for his items, and led Tooru outside. He plopped onto the warm concrete and sat with his legs crossed, then patted the cement next to him as a gesture for Tooru to mimic him. Tooru obliged.

“Something’s wrong,” Suga stated bluntly.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tooru said.

“You’re a bad liar.”

Tooru plastered on a fake smile. 

“Oh? You wound me, Kou-chan! I’ll have you know I was the lead in the school play three years in a row, and-”

“Is it Iwaizumi?”

Tooru’s voice died in his throat and Suga’s eyes narrowed, obviously pleased with his accurate guess. He reached into the plastic bag in his lap and passed a single milk bread package to Tooru. He took out another one out for himself.

“Here, I got them for me and Daichi, but you look like you needed one.” Suga laughed and The Pit is back again. Tooru went silent.

 

“...You know, I’m kinda jealous of you and Iwaizumi,” Suga said. “You guys are practically inseparable, since you’ve grown up together, after all. Whatever is going on between you two, you could figure it out.”

Maybe it was because Tooru had no outlet for it before, but something in Suga’s wistful expression and unnerving intuition unlocked the floodgates. It was like Suga took the little bottle labelled  _ Tooru’s feelings  _ and smashed it on the ground.

Tooru told him everything. From the confession to then, where Hajime won’t even look at him and his heart ached as he fought back tears. Suga listened intently, not once interrupting Tooru as he spilled out his guts to the boy he rarely, if ever, spoke to outside the court. 

“I don’t know what to do, Kou-chan,” He curled into himself, resting his chin on his knees. 

“This isn’t normal. I don’t know what to do.”

Suga thinks before he speaks. He was quiet for a long time. Customers entered and left Shimada Mart lazily. 

“You know, I’ve gone through what you’re feeling before,” Suga said. “It’s not easy, but you’ll figure it out. There’s nothing weird about it; you’re  _ you,  _ so  of course it’s normal.”

Tooru picked at his milk bread.

“Daichi is my best friend, you know.”   


“So I’ve heard.”

Suga hums. 

“I don’t know what my life would be like without him. Obviously I have other friends, like you and Asahi and the team, but Daichi… Daichi is different. And when I first realized that, I was afraid. I didn’t want to cause us drifting apart. It’s miserable and scary, but,” Suga smiled. “How will you know if you don’t try?”

Tooru stared at him.

 

“We’re friends, Kou-chan?”

Suga laughed, a big, hearty laugh that made Tooru’s chest feel light.

 

“Well, of course we are. After all, we’re here, aren’t we?”

 

Tooru smiled back, and stood, offering his hand to Suga who gratefully accepted. They brushed themselves off, and Suga gave Tooru his LINE. 

“So if you ever want to skip class again and goof off or just to talk or something, just shout, ok?”

Tooru nodded and they exchanged goodbyes, headed in different directions. Tooru went home and celebrated his sister’s birthday and played volleyball with a hyperactive Takeru, and fell asleep with Suga’s voice floating in his head, the unspoken question Suga never said that day.

_ What are you afraid of, Oikawa? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for chapter 3, there's some anxiety stuff, internalized homophobia, a panic attack, therapy and all that not so fun stuff. ill put a warning in the next chapters notes too just in case, but here's a heads up just in case.


End file.
